


The Touch of Your Hand

by theskywasblue



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Comfort, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-21
Updated: 2010-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dokugakuji memorizes by touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Touch of Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Touch". Time taken to write: 10 minutes.

It's not that Kougaiji doesn't like to be touched when he's awake – although there's a distance there, a distinct uncertainty – he's not used to it, obviously, not used to being touched like he's…well, like he really exists, as a person and not a title. As Kougaiji, not as the prince. When he's asleep, it's just less complicated, and Dokugakuji takes advantage of it.

He starts, always, with the small rise of vertebrae on the back of Kougaiji's neck - a favourite resting place for his lips when Kougaiji stirs in the middle of the night, troubled by a dream he never mentions – and moves downwards, along the graceful ridge of his spine, memorizing, avoiding the scars that Kougaiji doesn't like to talk about, all the way to the rise of his hip bone, sharp and perfect. His fingers follow the bone to the flat, defined plane of Kougaiji's stomach, chasing contours of muscles up to his last rib and following the curve of it down to Kougaiji's sternum. This is the path, sometimes interrupted by the fold of Kougaiji's arm tucked under the pillow, leading all the way to the tender hollow of his throat, which always welcomes the sharpness of Dokugakuji's teeth, much to his amazement; and he follows the slender arch all the way to the space beneath Kougaiji's jaw, pausing long enough to feel at least three heartbeats beneath his fingertips before he moves back to the start, to make another circuit.

He could go on and on forever, memorizing through repetition for hours and hours, until sunlight pours through the window; but Kougaiji's stirs, mumbles, "What're you doing?"

"Nothing," he can't hide the laughter in his voice, even as he presses his smile into Kougaiji's skin, "Nothing Kou, go back to sleep."

Kougaiji rolls over, fully exposing the plane of his back, unafraid, yawns and slips away again, lulled by the steady movement of Dokugakuji's fingers gliding over his skin.

-End-


End file.
